


Just Your Average Dive Bar

by AwkwardOctopus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardOctopus/pseuds/AwkwardOctopus
Summary: It's been years since Jesse had seen his former commander and lover, Strike Commander Jack Morrison. When his evening drink gets interrupted by a ghost from the dead, he doesn't think twice about following him home.





	Just Your Average Dive Bar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UmbramMortis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmbramMortis/gifts).



> This was a commission for one of my favorite people @UmbramMortis! Thank you so much for being so patient with me, so inspiring, and such a supportive friend. Without further ado, enjoy!

One of the nice things about run-down dive bars was that they were the same no matter where you went. The same slightly sticky floors, the same water spotted glasses and rickey bar stools, the same quietly brooding bartender serving the same type of people, in every city in the world. Sure the language or the drinks or the setting might change a little, but at the heart of it, it was the same.

That kind of consistency was hard to come by for a man like Jesse McCree, who hadn't spent more than a few weeks in one place in months.That was, of course, why he always found himself _in_ such establishments so often. Just for the familiar scenery. However, today, the hum-drum of his dive bar of choice was being rather rudely upended by someone who very obviously did _not_ fall into the same-ness that permeated every dead-end joint in the country.

Jesse had been nursing a short glass of something cheap and strong in a corner booth, boots propped up on the opposite bench and one eye on the door while the other drooped dangerously shut. He'd get tossed out if he dozed off, so the lookout was partially because he was a wanted man and partially because it kept him awake. This evening it turned out to be a good thing, because he had time to sit up and place a hand on his gun in the time between when the door flung open as a body flew through it, and when a second body charged in after.

The first belonged to someone obviously unsavory, in the same way Jesse himself was often judged to be unsavory. Dirty behind the ears and recently sober, dressed to distract rather than for function (though he lacked Jesse's particular flair for the dramatic), and in need of a shave. Jesse didn't know him, but he'd know a hundred men like him. If he didn't deal drugs or smuggle weapons or sell black market tech, McCree would eat his hat.

The man that followed him in, however, was anything but ordinary. Bulky tac-gear that was eerily familiar did little to hide the defined muscles of a career soldier. Silver hair implied the very young or very old, and the wrinkles beneath ruled out the former. Even more notable was the weapon he carried, not aimed but in-hand. A large modern rifle unlike Jess had seen anywhere-except one place. A black and red visor obscured most of the man's face, but that was alright, since ghosts didn't need faces. He was on his feet before the door swung shut behind the large man.

The bartender was already yelling about not wanting any trouble, but the man in blue wasn't interested in excuses. With his free hand he scooped up the creep from where he'd hit the greasy floor and shoved him over the bar, just in front of the bar tender. When he spoke it felt like Jesse's stomach was being carved out with nanites, one microscopic path at a time. It was like hearing a piece of music you once knew, but the speakers were damaged to make it almost unrecognizable.

"When I spoke to you yesterday I thought I made it clear I wasn't looking for lies. I found him with this-" Soldier shoved the shaking man's coat away to reveal a handful of Jammers pinned to the inside of the man's coat. They were harmless-except to omnics. All you had to do was get one in range of an omnic and set it off- boom, no more hard written memory. More effective at destroying an omnic than a nuclear explosion. They'd been illegal for years, even after the war, but people still bought them for one reason or another. If they were being smuggled here, the recent uptake in hate crimes made sense.

The man continued when the bartender glanced down at the tiny black chips. "Peddling just out behind your shop. But he didn't have them before he got there, did he?" The bartender was looking hotter and hotter under the collar each second that the man spoke, and Jesse had seen this enough times to know what was coming next. The bartender and the dealer were out cold nearly before Jesse could have drawn his gun, and the vigilante was rounding the bar to tie them up until the cops arrived. That, too, was familiar. Suddenly the tac-gear triggered another memory, much more recently, of a newsreel playing on loop. An excited anchorwoman describing a man who fought crime but was himself a criminal, never caught but always pursued.

Realizing he'd been little more than a bystander, McCree cleared his throat and tried for comedy when he felt nothing but morbid grief and confusion. "I don't suppose you'll let me buy you a drink."

\------------

The tense silence when the man stood but didn't face him was nerve wracking. Was he wrong? Jack- he hadn't let the name enter his mind yet, and it made him shudder to recall the newsreels on _that_ \- was supposed to be ten years dead. It could just be a coincidence, it could be anyone else. Of course it was someone else. It's not like Strike Commander Morrison would just leave everyone in the dar-

"It's been a long time, kid. You never did learn when to keep your mouth shut." Jesse wanted to say something snarky in return, something to reduce the tightness in his chest, but nothing came. A hollow breath in caught in his throat, too quiet for a sob but not unlike it in quality. When Jack finally turned, McCree admitted he had been lying to himself. It couldn't have been anyone but Jack. The stance, the voice, the weapon. Perhaps the people had forgotten enough history to fail to put the pieces together, but Jesse had fought next to this man for years.

The visor made him unreadable, emotionless save for the posture of his body, perpetually upright and steady. McCree half expected to be chastised for his lack of decorum and called to attention. However, no such call came, and Jack turned and left the bar the way he'd come, walking fast enough to leave Jesse scrambling to follow him. He hadn't payed, but he figured that since the bartender was going to be arrested, a $3 whiskey either way didn't matter.

When Jesse burst out the front door he caught only a glimpse of that blue jacket around a corner and set off at a sprint, taking the corner nearly too fast. Another tiny glimpse kept him moving forward, and he got the distinct impression that he was being led. He should stop - this could be a trap. He hadn't seen the man's face, hadn't asked for his name. But his feet kept carrying him forward after that flash of blue vinyl all the same, unable to help himself. When he turned a corner and found himself with no idea where to go, he cussed quietly under his heaving breath.

The hand that came down on his serape and yanked almost earned Jack a revolver shot to the gut, but it ended with the two of them tucked into a doorway with Jesse still trying to catch his breath and Jack looking just like he once had when Jesse had turned in his first mission report - amazed and angry and disappointed all in one

"Are you an idiot?" He asked, and Jesse just stared with his mouth agape. He was about to squawk his indignance when Jack made a hushing motion and pointed. Jesse watched as three men ran past, obviously in pursuit. Two held large weapons with graviton emitters, while a third carried a long rifle with a nasty looking scope on it. They seemed to think their prey was going somewhere else, as they didn't give the alleyway McCree and Jack were in a second glance.

Before Jesse could open his mouth to demand an explanation for all this, he was being pushed back against a wall- a door, his mind supplied- and then the door swung in and they were flung into blackness. The click of the door was followed by a swiping sound, then the light came on and nearly blinded him, starting up a quiet round of cursing from McCree.

"What in all of God's green earth is this about? Jack? Is that you? You're supposed to be fucking dead, WHAT the fucking-" Jesse is finally able to focus and Morrison has taken off his visor to set it on the small table to one side. It's him- the same face, aged years he wasn't aware that Jack had. The scars were mostly new, though some of the old ones remained. He exhaled and tried to wrangle his emotions, suddenly aware that he was barely breathing anymore and that his eyes had filled with prickling tears. Whatever anger he had died in his throat.

For a long moment they just look at one another. He tries to imagine what Jack might think of him now. He was rounder now, with some give on his stomach and hips and thighs where he'd been all hard muscle in his youth. His beard was full and wiry, and he'd spent even more time in the sun since his desertion than before Reyes had picked him up in that Gorge. The thought of Reyes had him sucking in a sharp breath and he couldn't stop himself from voicing the question. The most shocking would be his arm, of course. He’d lost it after he’d left Overwatch.

"Gabriel? Is he...?" Jack just shook his head, and Jesse exhaled in a whoosh. He didn't know if he was upset or relieved at that, either. This was too much- he felt himself sway on his feet and took a step back to lean on the wall. He'd barely sat down for a drink when Jack had burst in- he needed something stronger. This place was obviously a temporary crash spot. Little more than a room with a wash closet and a bed, there was a table but no chairs, and a duffle bag with clothes and more gear spilling out the top sat in the corner on the floor.

They were quiet for a moment more, and Jack was the first to speak. Jesse almost jumped out  of his skin at the gravelly voice- still somehow expecting Commander Morrison's smoother tenor. "I-...It's good to see you, Jesse." It was more honest than he remembered the Strike Commander being when it came to things like this, but he supposed that things changed. Or maybe Jack didn't believe in wasting time talking around the issue anymore. Jesse found himself nodding, tears threatening to brim over again. When had he turned into a damn bleeding heart?

"I missed you too, Jack." He murmured, and was hit suddenly with the realization that this was real. He took a step forward, and then when Jack didn't protest, another. When he was close enough, the younger man reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder, almost surprised when it caught on firm muscle and mass rather than slipping through like smoke. Nothing moved for a second, then Jesse broke and sobbed quietly as he grabbed Jack into a hug. It was awkward- neither of them made a habit of hugging anyone anymore, and they had been close a long, long time ago. But both of them relaxed a bit after a moment, Jack chuckling and McCree sniffing dramatically.

"I don't remember you having this soft side before. You didn't get married or something, did you?" Jack was less tense now, trying to lighten the mood. It worked, and Jesse chuckled, pulling back to look his former leader in the face again. Things were different now - so different it was almost comical - but some things didn't change.

"Nah, never did find a lady willing to put up with me. Reyes was the closest and you had him led around by the nose already." It was in inside joke. The three of them had tumbled into bed with one another enough that the idea of settling down for marriage was a strange one. By the time that things had gone south, nobody was worried about romance. Gabriel was always the homemaker of them, though. He'd cooked and kept them from living in filth, played music and reminded them how important they were to one another.

The reminder of those times settled between them heavily, and Jesse fought the urge to cry again. Jack playfully shoved McCree towards the bed and began stripping off his own gear piece by piece. "Sit. You got time to chat? I'm laying low until those goons give up and circle back to Phoenix. Should be just another day or two." He didn't finish the thought- then he would have to leave, try to lose them. McCree carefully didn't think about that, either.

"I got all the time in the world, boss." The title slipped out and he froze, wondering if that was okay. Morrison wasn't boss now, nobody was. It was just a nickname though, and Jack didn't flinch visibly, if it bugged him. "Was just gonna drink and shoot the wind for the night. I'm just wandering, staying ahead of the wanted posters." Jack had to know McCree was a wanted man already. Hell, he'd probably known since before McCree did, since he'd gotten his bounty back in full and then some after he'd skipped town on Overwatch and run as far as his legs could take him.

Jack sighed and nodded, finally winding his jacket off his arms to leave himself in his grey fatigue pants and a white tee shirt. McCree had taken off his serape and draped it over the table, but kept the rest of his getup in place. If he needed to leave quickly, it'd be easier if he didn't have to get dressed. "I couldn't do much about that. Gabe made a deal- technically, you broke it. I argued that it wasn't the same, but the UN wasn't looking for any more trouble back then. It was out of my hands." He sounded bitter, and McCree sighed and stretched out, laying himself on the bed deliberately to be annoying.

It wasn't like he had blamed Jack for his bounty. He'd known the second he'd decided to leave what it had meant. His debt to society was only forgiven so long as he was playing by the UN's rules. When he'd decided that the only way out was, well, _out_ , that had meant his former bounty had been reinstated- plus the penalty of desertion and treason to boot. He didn't want to think about the amount of money you could make off his head, but enterprising individuals after it had reliably informed him on the regular. The recent incident with the train had only upped the number.

"The way I hear it, you aren't doing so hot at keeping yourself out of the papers." It was a gross over-simplification of the media whirlwind going on over the ‘masked vigilante’. Everyone had an opinion on him - which meant the news brought him up whenever they were having a slow day. Which, to be honest, was happening less and less often. The world was getting to be more dangerous, and everyone was pretending not to notice. Worse, he kept showing up when there was breaking news, escaping burning buildings or leaving eyewitness accounts from children and the elderly whom he’d saved. Exactly like the hero Jack had always wanted to be.

Jack faced the bed and rolled his eyes, grabbing one of McCree's ankles and yanking, tipping him off to one side and nearly off the bed to make room for himself to sit. As he settled in, McCree sputtered and set his hat on the table, saving it from where it had fallen onto the floor. Jack stretched out and leaned on the wall behind him, staring into the empty room. It went without saying that they were watching the door.

"I'm just trying to clean up my own messes. The damn nosy bastards just keep catching me with my pants down. Hey!" He shoved the younger man playfully with his shoulder when Jesse started laughing at his choice of words. He couldn't fight the urge to laugh himself, however, and before long they were bent over and trying again to breath normally, withholding chuckles. It had been a long time since either of them had been able to relax like this, if only a little.

When the room fell silent again, they sat companionably for a while, enjoying the solitude after the bout of energy without the need to fill it with idle talk. It was almost better this way- there were too many question to ask, too much to talk about, all of it complicated and morbid and cold. As if in silent agreement, they looked at one another appraisingly. McCree was no stranger to that kind of look- from others or from Jack himself. He did raise an eyebrow though, questioning.

"Is this a good idea, Jack?" His tone was serious, and he meant it, to some degree. They were both dangerous men. They couldn't stay together, not for long. And this could bring up some tough memories. But the temptation was too strong, and McCree had always been bad at resisting temptation. "After all, you're an old man now. I wouldn't want to break yo-" He was cut off by Jack pushing forward, pressing surprisingly soft lips against his own chapped pair. Maybe the visor kept him protected from the elements or something.

The kiss was similar to the embrace earlier, filled with emotions they couldn't name and as bittersweet as it was fulfilling. Somewhat nostalgic, Jesse could almost feel the hot breath of a third man in the bed with them. He doubted that absence slipped from Jack's mind either, though neither of them brought it up. Some things were better left buried.

The heady warmth of making out with Jack was enough to set his head spinning, and when they pulled apart Jesse was nervous. Was Jack as enraptured with him as he was with Jack? It had been a long time, and so much had changed, _he_ had changed...

His worries were put to rest when Jack laid a hand on Jesse's cheek and ran his thumb along the younger man's jaw. It was affectionate and sweet and Jesse hummed and leaned forward for another kiss, this one less chaste and dripping with heat. Jack chuckled and scratched lightly on the fuzzy beard that lined McCree's cheeks when they pulled apart, fond and reverent.

"Still impatient as ever, all jets on turbo." It was a good natured comment, one that finished setting Jesse at ease. Whatever had happened all those years ago was far enough away from here that they could just be themselves- no technicalities to get in the way. Perhaps another time, in another place, they would have to face that, but it didn't have to be tonight.

McCree grinned in response, all tooth and lip, an expression Jack recognized all too well as one of trouble, in the way only Jesse could mean it. "Maybe I'm just excited to see ya!" He clapped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him close, tucking his face into Jack's neck to kiss there. A stiff jerk made McCree bark a laugh while Jack tried not to blush. "Ticklish! Strike Commander Jack Morrison, ticklish!" Jack rolled his eyes and shoved McCree until he was laying back properly and straddled him, effectively preventing Jesse from moving any more.

"Your beard needs trimmed, McCree." He managed to effect such a tone that Jesse just stared, brought back to a time years ago when a younger Jack pressed him to a desk in a base somewhere, devouring his neck and palming his cock. Back then it'd been just little tastes when they could squeeze it in, glimpses to tide them over until they could catch a few hours together again. The three of them were tough to nail in one place for long, particularly after Jesse got promoted and began taking on responsibilities outside of Gabriel's purview.

Jack brought him firmly back into the now by sliding hands up Jesse's shirt, pushing it up as he did. A flash of modesty- or maybe a bit of shame- welled up, but McCree pushed it down in his gullet. He was a bit thicker around the middle now days, but he wasn't a bad looking man, he knew. He got enough attention from all kinds of people to be well assured of that. He'd taken enough of them up on the offer to know it was genuine. Perhaps it was simply that Jack had known him before, had a memory to compare it to. But if anything, Jack seemed enthralled by Jesse's body, hands gripping on his hips hard enough to send a jolt to his stirring cock.

Jesse leaned up to kiss him again, this time making a point of taking it slow and steady. It wasn't as if he hadn't learned any patience at all since they'd last done this, or that Gabriel and Jack hadn't _thoroughly_ taught him a bit about it when they'd fucked. It was honestly that he wanted this to happen, wanted to know for sure it was real, wanted to make sure he wasn't going to wake up, or go to heaven, or maybe for someone to jump out and yell surprise. The more they kissed, the more grounded Jesse felt.

Humming at the improvement, the white haired man let Jesse have his fun while he finished stripping off his shirt and began on his belt. When it fell away with a click, Jesse nudged him back so he could paw at the tank top, intent clear even though his chest still heaved for lost breath. Jack smiled, crossing his arms to pull it off the way he knew would look hot. He wasn't young anymore, but he'd kept well in shape with enough stamina to keep him safe. The look wasn't bad, if you could get past the scars. Jesse seemed enraptured by them, if anything.

"Well how-dee..." McCree said lowly, sitting up on his elbows and watching. He'd known that Jack wasn't entirely normal because of the serum, same as Gabriel, but he hadn't thought about what that meant going into the future. He'd aged, sure, but he still looked fucking great. And he was currently staring down at him with one eyebrow cocked. Jesse laughed a little, color rising on his cheeks at being caught staring. "Sorry boss, you look so good, I got a little lost. Why don't you come closer so it doesn't happen again..." He murmured, and Jack shook his head and smiled.

"You haven't changed a bit, kid." With that, no more words were exchanged for a time while they made out like teenagers, lips chapped but still as soft as they used to be. McCree groped along Jack's body eagerly, always mindful of where he put his cool metal hand. Still, Jack jumped when he felt it at first, and McCree ducked his head a bit in embarrassment. Jack pulled away first, much to Jesse's protest, but he was hushed with a sweet kiss and a chuckle.

“Sorry, it warms up pretty quick but the finger can be a little chilly at first…” He tried to explain, but his partner just grinned and shook his head at the assumption. He wanted to know that story, but it could wait. Jesse knew how to use the hand and that’s all that mattered right now.

"Relax, Jess, take off your shirt and stay a while." He'd already pulled off layers up around the younger man's neck, and Jesse was quick to comply, shedding his serape, his armor, his shirt. They're skin-to-skin in no time and Jack pressed more and more, until he straddled McCree's waist and devoured his mouth enthusiastically. It'd been a while for Jesse himself, but from how eager his partner was, he'd wager that it'd been even longer for Jack. Not one to be a tease to a man in such need, he palmed the straining bulge in the other man's pants and grinned when he hissed his pleasure.

"I don't want to make any assumptions here, but why don't you go ahead and get a bit more comfortable." He smiled lecherously as he worked Jack's cock inside the infernal material, encouraging him physically in a way his voice was not. That, too, reminded Jack of the past so much that for a second, it hurt. The moment passed and he growled, placing a hand on Jesse's shoulder and giving him a good shove. Apparently the runt had been keeping sweeter bedmates since he'd left all those years ago, because he looked mildly bewildered for a split second, before he moaned and his cock twiched in his pants. He'd always liked getting pushed around a little, and apparently that hadn't changed. He just needed a little reminding.

Jack climbed off and removed his own pants, revealing his hard cock. His pubic hair had gone a bit grey, and his skin wasn't as tight as it used to be, but he still had a beautiful dick, Jesse was happy to note. Not pausing for his partner's ogling, he set about removing McCree's shoes, then his pants, until they were both naked and able to look at one another. Unlike Jack, Jesse had changed a bit more since the last time they'd fucked. He was broader, almost as broad as Jack himself, and thicker in the middle. His ass had always been amazing, but now it was more cut, lean, as were his legs and feet. Impatient, Jack cut his looking short to draw his hands up Jesse's legs and climb back on top, this time settling the younger man's ankles over his hips and rutting forward until they could grind against one another.

Jesse keened at the sudden contact and clung to Jack's arms, suddenly revising his own estimate of exactly how long it had been. Or, maybe it was all Jack. Everything about it felt different, and yet, so much of it was the same. He could picture this in a quiet inn in Belarus while they waited for the UN delegation to arrive. He could picture it in any number of the god forsaken holes in the ground they had found themselves in, those that seemed to go hand in hand with combat. The weight of exactly how different they both were now was almost more a comfort than a concern- different ingredients would make a different meal, and they had both eaten their fill of what they'd made by the end of it.

From there, it was a rush of warm skin on skin, lips sliding against each other, along Jesse's neck and down Jack's front. When they finally paused to catch their breath, McCree was smiling lazily and lightly stroking the older man's cock, while Jack's eyes were closed as he enjoyed the sensation. Pulling away, Jack climbed off the bed to retrieve a bottle of lubricant from his duffle bag. He waved it teasingly in front of Jesse, raising an eyebrow at him in question.

McCree had the decency to pretend he considered it for a moment before he parted his legs and waggled his eyebrows comically, causing them both to chuckle a bit as Jack took his place back at the end of the bed. From there it was a process of Jesse relaxing while Jack slid one finger, then two, sucking him off while he did. The time apart had changed a lot about them, but he still knew all the places Jesse liked to be touched, exactly how to make him squirm, and he used as much as he could remember to his advantage.

When he was relaxed enough to go on, Jack sat up and wiped his mouth with his arm, grinning wolfishly down at Jesse. The mood had shifted from light sexy banter into more weighty passion, eye contact and measured breaths marking time.

"Are you ready, Jesse?" Jack's eyes were trained on McCree's lips as he waited for a response, hands on the calves wrapped around his hips, dusted with attractive dark hair. He wanted to remember this feeling in perfect detail.

"Been ready for a while, Jack." Done with wasting time, the older man rubbed the flushed tip of his cock against McCree's hole and pressed in steadily. He paused when he felt his partner tense, but moved on again once Jesse relaxed each time. It was only a moment or two before he was fully seated and they were both breathing heavily. Now that he was close enough again, Jack leaned in to kiss at Jesse's lips while his hips pulled out just a little and slid forward again. The tiny movements were torture to Jesse, who was now eager for stimulation.

Jesse moaned and shifted, remembering exactly why he liked doing this so much with a partner who knew how to take his time. Jack had never been one to rush, and this had been no exception. Now he itched for his former commander to move faster, to set a relentless pace until they both came apart. The restless jiggle in his hips and the way his cock jumped let Jack know all he needed to about the pace. When Jesse was breathing hard and his heels dug into his back, Jack sat up and stretched upward, making a show of it like he always used to. He hadn't gotten a rise out of showing off for anyone in a while, but he knew the steps, and McCree seemed as into it as he always was, curling to run his warm hand up the strong muscles of his torso.

"How's that? Feels good, doesn't it?" Jack teased lightly, flushing at his own boldness. Once, with Gabriel whispering encouragement in his ear, he'd said far dirtier things to the man beneath him, and followed through on some of it too. Now, it had been so long since anything remotely like this has passed his lips. Jesse nodded enthusiastically, hands running over Jack's shoulders, his back, his hips.

"Bettern' I remember." He slurred a little, brain not devoting much to his words. Jack chuckled and sped up, elongating his thrusts until he nearly pulled out each time. Even now, his stamina outstripped McCree, and in no time the younger man was writhing near the edge of his orgasm, Jack slowing while it was just out of reach. This was also a game they had often played, though neither of them would be able to play it out as long as they had amongst the three of them.

"Please, Jack-" Jesse gasped at a harsh thrust that caught just right and blackened his vision for a moment. The train of thought was lost for a moment as he tried to grind back against the cock inside him, but Jack pulled away just enough to keep him wanting. "Awwww, Jaaaack." McCree whined again, using his legs to pull in, drawing them closer so he could nose in close for another kiss. "Please let me cum, boss?" The title at the end was a dirty trick, but the sharp thrust and grin from Jack meant it was the right one. This time he didn't relent when Jesse began to tip over the edge, hips slapping together in an obscene sounding crescendo.

Jesse went first, hips bucking in Jack's fingers and howling his pleasure. That hadn't changed, and the memory from the past combined with the sensation of the present tipped him over the edge as well. He slid deep and pumped his lover full, McCree groaning at the sensation. When they finally pulled apart, Jack retrieved a towel from the bathroom and passed it to McCree to clean up. When that was finished, Jack checked the window and the door again before climbing back into the bed, where McCree has begun to shift awkwardly, wondering exactly what they were going to do now.

Jack had an idea, but he wouldn't force the younger man if he didn't want. Laying down, he patted the space next to him and raised an eyebrow, intent clear. For a tense second, neither of them moved, then the grin on Jesse's face made the vulnerable moment worth it when he broke. They came together and Jack sighed, letting go of his vision of the past. There would be time for that later, but for now, they could have this together. With that thought, he allowed himself to rest with his once lover curled in his arms.

 


End file.
